Strawberry Pizza

My Granny means the world to me. I.love.her. I'm not her favorite, though. In fact, I'm 4th in that line, yes, 4th and I'm ok with it. I mean, do I pick on P for being the favorite? Of course I do. Do I shake my head when I visit and P's favorite dinner AND dessert are served? Of course I do. Do I shrug my shoulders and say "thanks a lot Granny" in my head when she calls P her baby and tells us for the 1,456 time that everyone says P looks like her? Of course I do. Do I...well, you get the point. I'm 4th place and I'm ok with it. My Granny is a lover of food-not exotic, rare treasures, but food. She likes it fried, dipped in mayo, covered in homemade gravy, topped with bacon slices and cheese, served with sweet tea. I.love.her. She used to make us breakfast (pancakes AND waffles, bacon AND sausage, grits AND eggs) when we were little. I can smell the goodness just thinking about it. We always eat lunch at Granny's on Sunday. I look forward to it everytime we go home. It is a constant in our lives. P was there this past Sunday and I asked her to text me a picture of Granny's recipe for Strawberry Pizza. As long as I can remember, when strawberries came into season, Granny made strawberry pizza. It is the taste of summer, the smell of family and friends, the feeling of all is right in the world-when I assure you nothing was right in the world. She would brag about the church ladies begging for the recipe and the gents asking for seconds. She would tease us and say she wasn't going to make it anymore. It was the dessert of choice for our family, but it is my favorite. P has chocolate pie and sweet potato pie and peanut butter balls and whatever else her heart may desire, J loved a glass of Granny's tea more than any other sweet, and N had blueberry dream pie. Dad has coconut (ew!) and my mom likes her pound cake, but hands down-strawberry pizza is my favorite.In a moment that I did not see coming, partially because I do not want to believe it is happening and partially because this is ourthing, my 93 year old Granny did not remember strawberry pizza. She doesn't remember. My heart is broken friends, broken. P found the recipe though, and with teary eyes, T and I made strawberry pizza. It just doesn't taste the same.

*I should be honest and say that Granny's has a homemade crust and mine, well, does not. :) Big sis would be proud, little sis will be disappointed!

8 comments:

Problem with memories is that the fade. I've lost my sister and brother and I try with all my might to hold on, for myself and my guy and its working. Of course, sometimes my exaggerated memory stories are his favorite! Elle-you are in my prayers.

We all have wonderful memories of childhood, and quite often, the revolve around food. I guess it's the comfort factor. In my family, all of the kids are taught to make Snickerdoodles and double chocolate cheesecake. We also learn to cook from scratch so that our Thanksgivings are a culinary delight. Thanks for sharing your story!

Thanks for commenting Sheri! You are right! Many of my memories are around food! My mom's mac and cheese (AH!!!) and my sister's cream cheese and ham rollups. Delish! Now making from scratch....that is my sister's department!

Oh, this is sad and sweet at the same time! It's hard to watch our loved ones grow older, but I'm so glad that you've got such a healthy relationship with your granny. What a blessing and what a wealth of memories you'll have to treasure!